


The Mists Not Breached

by Lemon_Seedy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Forest Exploration, Forest Spirit Pidge, Gen, Magic, Pre-Relationship, Secret Santa, Spells & Enchantments, Witch Lance (Voltron), plance, sorry this is late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22265356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemon_Seedy/pseuds/Lemon_Seedy
Summary: There's a strange voice in the woods that witch apprentice Lance nearly dies in, but freaky plants and swirling mists and the literal threat of death still doesn't dissuade him from going in to investigate.
Relationships: Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt, Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	The Mists Not Breached

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Voltron Secret Santa for 2019!  
> starsonthursday, I'm very sorry this is so late, the fires in victoria have really been getting in the way of things, and the area I'm in have had power cuts left and right, and I've had to wait for pockets of power and internet to upload.  
> Thankyou so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy your gift for the New Year instead!

The first time Lance met her, was when he was asked by uncle Coran to go digging up rare roots, ones that just happen to grow in a very specific place in a very specific wood.

He had leaped at the opportunity of course, even given its dangers, anything to get even a foot in front of Keith, who, of course, was excelling in his apprenticeship with their uncle. Coran had obviously been leaning towards Keith, he was better in combat, quicker at casting on the fly, better at keeping his mouth shut when he should (though Lance heavily disputed that particular point), and just better at everything in general, like he always was.  _ Well not this time, _ he had said,  _ this time, I’m gonna go charging in head first, I’ll get those Jikori-whatsit roots, Coran, and I won’t burn half the forest down to do it! _

Now, however, he was very much nearly, but not entirely, regretting his decision. 

The vines that had entrapped his legs had begun to wind their way up, up towards his satchel which he dug through frantically, flinging half his supplies out as he went. He cursed some terrible word that he sure had been replaced with a dozen others by the time he realised he had, the deep maroon mists that covered the clearing swirled from his sharp breath as if he had offended them personally, and rushed back in at his panicked gasps. 

His grasping fingers finally clenched around a bright orange shell, and pulled it free as one arm was suddenly struggling against the dark vines, thorns tearing away at his tunic. The groves of the small, curled shell calmed his thoughts, and his breathing, as he snapped it into pieces, hissing the spell faster than he had ever done on record. Sparks erupted from his palm, fizzed outwards, then down, slicing at what had ambushed him, freeing his feet just enough so that he could scramble away, tripping over every trunk and root hidden among the mists.

Catching his breath on top of a, hopefully safe, rock, Lance swore once more for good measure, “Dammit Keith, all your forest fires are starting to make sense now,” he mumbled to himself. 

“Yeah you really  _ are _ an idiot,” a cackling voice rang through the air, and Lance’s breath caught in his throat as he stifled a scream, something he had somehow gotten used too on this trip.

“Honestly, who the hell doesn’t bring, I dunno, a machete, or at least a knife to get Jandora roots?”

“Who’s there,” Lance spun around, crouched on his rock, attempting to locate the source of the disembodied voice, “how do you know what I’m here for?”

“It’s obvious. I mean,  _ really _ obvious. The only other things that worth getting out here for little witchys like you are the giant living squid ink spaghetti things that  _ you _ just ran away from,”

Lance stopped, spotting the silhouette of another large stone in the near distance, and perched on top, a small figure, shorter than himself, and unmistakably glowing a faint green. “Who-?”

Something hit him square in the face, knocking him backwards off of his rock. A shrill, mocking laughter filled his ears before the little gremlin  _ thing,  _ spoke again, “Name’s Pidge, get out of my forest, and you’re welcome.” the voice faded, leaving him once again, completely alone. What didn’t fade in that moment, was the strange weight left in his lap. He poked at it, it didn’t poke back, so he assumed it safe and inspected it closer. A root. A Jugori- _ orwhatever _ root.

Safe to say, even despite his avid curiosity, he didn’t say much longer.

-

_ “You didn’t say those woods were freaking haunted!” _

_ “Well, they aren’t my dear boy, what attacked you was not any lingering spirit, or crazy eyed demon. Those vines are native to the Red Hills Woods, and actually very common-” _

_ “Yeah, yeah Uncle, I know, I know about the vines, what I mean is that there’s some girl, deep in that place, that’s haunting it! She was floating, Coran. Floating! And she had the weird ghost name, Pidge or something, it was nuts!” _

_ “Alright, Lance, calm down, I believe you. At least, I believe you saw something out there. Perhaps your magic overreacted to the unknown energy of the forest, like hayfever! And maybe I  _ will _ send Keith next time…” _

-

The next time he saw her, Lance had been trudging through the thick grass, haunting sounds of birds above him making him jump at every corner.

In all honesty he knew going to Red Hills at night was one of his worst ideas yet, especially since he hadn’t told anyone where he was going. Not even his Uncle knew. But at the very least, he had brought a knife with him this time around, which he clutched tightly in his better hand, the one he  _ didn’t  _ burn while he practised is fire spells.

He couldn’t help himself, the weird ghost girl hadn’t left his mind since he had stumbled back into Coran’s house, frightening the poor man half to death and almost getting stabbed by Keith when he burst in through the door.

He shook his head, focusing once again on eyeing off any limp vines. Though, as he thought back, he could've sworn the rock where ‘Pidge’ had been somewhere near him. 

“Pidge?” he tested, “come on, I know you’re there,” the lack of any sort of sound, let alone an answer dug into his tired frustration. Dammit, he didn’t spend every morning pouring through Coran’s dusty old newspaper collection to find any mention of a young girl mysteriously disappearing into the woods for nothing.

He groaned and rubbed at his sore eyes, “I swear it was right over here-”

“Nope. You’re completely lost, dude.” he jolted, suddenly much more awake. Pidge’s voice sounded flat, yet it still held that same mocking tone as before. He twisted every which way before finally landing his gaze on the towering trees, the tops vanishing into a void-like darkness above, the only exception being a soft glowing of green not too far away from his head.

“I see you were slightly smarter this time, what’s the thing made of, ice? Wait,  _ please _ don’t tell me it’s diamond or something, I’ve had enough of you rich kids waltzing through here thinking your gold and gems are indestructible,”

Lance cleared his throat, swallowing his brief fright, “uh, no. It  _ is _ ice. I got it from up North with my uncle Coran. I carved it myself from the Marmoran glaciers, in fact.” he held the dagger up confidently, allowing the green glow to fully take in his amazing deed.

“Wait. wait wait wait, so you’re telling me that you’re  _ Coran’s _ kid?” the green glow suddenly lurched towards him, his boast seemingly slipping past, “damn I never thought the crazy old coot would  _ actually _ go through with getting an  _ apprentice. _ ”

“Yeah, two actually.” he quipped, “the other one is. Not important, what  _ is _ important is that, hey, you know my uncle somehow.” he glared into the glow, which slowly grew brighter, either that or it was coming closer. Closer, it was definitely closer, he decided as a shadow began to emerge from the middle of the glow, the same outline that had floated above the rock the first time. “How do you know my uncle.”

“Jeez dude, no need to get all defensive, Coran used to kick up a stink looking for that fake white lion thing years ago, then kinda just. Kept coming back.” she was right in front of him now, he took a cautious step back, clicking his fingers several times before a small flame lit up the side of his face from his outstretched hand.  _ Weird _ , he thought,  _ that always gets out of control before its even lit _ . 

He held his hand closer to Pidge’s shadowed face. Her hair was short, messy and a light brown, tiny thin vines wound through it, reflecting the flame’s glow. Her tiny body was draped in a baggy top and loose flowing pants, both a dark colour that he assumed was a deep green. She hovered mere inches from his face, head cocked to the side as she looked him up and down, “funny, you don’t look like much,” she circled around him slowly, poking at his dagger, then at his bag, both of which he snatched away, “What, and Coran  _ does _ ?”

“Touché, but you do seem to have the exact amount of brain cells, so, yeah. Bye bye now.” she sweetly smiled as hundreds of tiny lights drifted out from behind her. They swirled amongst the glow of green and the dark of night, and before Lance could voice his protest, he was waking up, sprawled on the pale grass in front of the woods.

-

_ ‘“The white lion spirit was believed by the ancient race, the Alteans, to reside deep within a sacred forest, and that it would lead to the temple of Oriande, the source of Altean power, and the birthplace of magic. Many years ago, historians believed that this forest was in fact the Rd Hills Woods, and in a misguided and desperate attempt to be the first to locate the fabled lion spirit, some resorted to burning down the woods, before my observations concluded any sightings of the spirit were in fact the resident white deer population were published. _

_ One can only begin to imagine what effect these events may have had on any residing forest spirits…” -Excerpt from the published journals of lost adventurer, Allura. _

-

Lance pressed on despite the heat. He had never before been more thankful that the ice of the Marmoran glaciers never melted under natural conditions as he pressed the side of his cold blade to his forehead. How the afternoon had brought such insufferable heat so quickly was beyond him, but he was at least grateful he could see where he was going this time, even if the path was mostly blocked by the usual thick red mists of the daytime.

He stabbed and slashed wildly at some twitching vine, backing slowly into a familiar looking clearing. Once he felt it was safe to tear his eyes away from the goopy mess he’d made, he poked around the edges of the small glade, testing to see which way had the most similar feel in his muscle memory.

After some time, and many more very dead and very goopy vines, he stumbled into the same rock. He climbed on top, peering into the mists, quietly whispering Pidge’s name. His efforts didn’t go unanswered.

“I thought I told you to leave my forest,” 

“Well, you didn’t say to never come back so, that’s on you,” he stared directly into the glowing green amongst the mist, “besides, I think it’s unfair, and just plain rude of me to know  _ your _ name, but not let you know mine, so there. The name’s Lance.” he quickly added his actual introduction to the mix, and waited for a response.

“I don’t care. Look, it was fun the first couple of times, watching you bumble around the place like an idiot, but you’re killing my plants and leaving the cleanup to me, so it’s been fun Lance, but-”

“Wait! Wait, just. Wait, please.” no speckles of light drifted out towards him, so he assumed that meant to go on, and even though he couldn’t see her face, he felt Pidge’s glare on the back of his neck, “ok so. In my defence, the only way to get here is through those death spaghetti noodles, but that wasn’t what I wanted to say. Anyway, I know that the mist in this place is from you, and all the living plants. And, and I know what happened here. With the white lion I mean. And I, I just wanted say that I’m sorry.”

There was no reply, so he continued on, “I’m sorry about what happened to your forest, to your home. And you can try and hide it behind all the fog, but the forest still hasn’t recovered, has it?” and it hadn’t, he knew. From the moment he stepped foot inside, past the cover of emerald pine trees, and shining oaks it had felt dreary, when he first took a break against a tall trunk and stood to dust the charcoal from his back, when he noticed that the only animals he would ever hear or see were possums and owls.

“So, I talked with Coran. I found out all these trees and stuff that used to grow here, and like, I thought that maybe, y’know, maybe we could replant them.” at that, he dug into his satchel to pull out a handful of nuts and seeds.

There was no answer from the forest spirit, “or like, if you want to do it, do it all yourself, I could just leave it all here and, and stuff.” he nervously stuttered and slid off the rock, replacing himself with his bulging satchel. 

He turned to leave, but felt a warm hand latch onto his elbow, Pidge sighed and tugged him a step backwards, “Lance.” he turned and faced her downcast eyes, and after a long pause, “thanks. This was really nice of you.” when she finally looked at him, he smiled.

He reached over her head and grabbed his bag, “cool, so, you’re gonna need to lead the way ‘cause I’ve forgotten what all of these do.” She laughed, and he couldn’t help the warmth bubbling in his chest at such a sweet sound.

“You know, witchy, maybe you  _ can _ stay a little bit longer.”


End file.
